


Generated Promptfic Blitz 5

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [164]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, implied self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still more generated promptfics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sten/m!Cousland - in front of a roaring fireplace

They’ve built the fire as high as they can, and Philander rubs his hands before the flames. Warm at last after that miserable march through rain and snow.

Sten enters from the adjoining bathchamber, and the blast of friendly heat catches him by surprise. New sweat turns the bronze of his skin almost golden. “This was not necessary, Warden.”

"True," Phil says, shucking off his shirt and stretching his aching arms. Over one shoulder he sneaks a peek at his  _kadan_ 's broad shoulders, the scar here, the shift of well-trained muscle there. “But I wouldn't be much of a friend if I let you catch cold tonight, would I?”

"I am surprised you are not suggesting other methods of keeping warm."

“ _Sten!_ " He affects great shock, opening his large blue eyes even wider. "You’ve been travelling with me too long, big guy."

"I know you too well, unfortunately."

(Still, somehow, later, Phil’s blond head will find its way onto Sten’s shoulder, and the man can’t protest.)


	2. Garrett Hawke/Ashaad, destiny

"We’ve really got to stop meeting each other like this," says Hawke. "I’m actually starting to  _recognise_  you.” This is true. This Ashaad, or whatever he chooses to call himself when he’s not Ashaad-ing, is skinny for a Qunari. He wields a red-striped bow about half as tall as he is, which is still a whacking great bow, and he has a scar on the pale, smooth inside of his wrist—the shape of which is painfully and frighteningly familiar to Hawke.

"If you stopped sticking your head into Qunari business, it would not be so." the Ashaad grunts back. This scrawny human with too much damn hair on his chin has conveniently been blundering into every nest of Tal-Vashoth on the coast—the Tal-Vashoth that Ashaad and those who he can still call his brothers are now duty-bound to kill.

"What can I say? Destiny must not like either of us very much."

"Hmh. Superstitious nonsense."

"Ooh, the Qunari knows big words."

"And the human knows to use its mouth for things other than chatter," Ashaad says, whipping around and nocking an arrow to face the band charging down upon them both.


	3. Merrill/Morrigan, the cold hard truth

Dread Wolf take the Eluvian. Try as she might, Merrill still knew as much about its workings as she did before she met Hawke.

And now, here they were. A broken city, a sky as red as blood, and a roar in the wind like a Pride Demon’s laughter. A broken elf. A broken mirror. Merrill pressed her raw fingertips to the cracked glass, wishing that she could just step through it to a place, any place, any time but here.

The glass beneath her touch was suddenly warm,  _soft_ , with the give of flesh. Startled, Merrill looked up. Touching a hand to hers was another woman, human, and though the image was cracked and splintered she could see purple fabric, yellow eyes tenfold, hungry like a dragon.

"You wish to leave?" the woman says in smooth, stilted words. "There is a price to pay."


End file.
